


droit du seigneur

by almostannette



Series: Crimes of Grindelwald - Oneshots [9]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Credence realizes that Graves has been manipulating him, D/s dynamics I suppose, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, New York City, Nurmengard, Obscurus tentacles I suppose, Revenge, but now that he's powerful he decides that he's going to be the one in control for a change
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-03
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-10-03 16:44:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17287736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/almostannette/pseuds/almostannette
Summary: Something about the beautiful intruder was terribly familiar - he was extraordinarily handsome and Graves thought he’d surely remember bedding such a beauty, but there was something… he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.“Don’t you remember me, Mr. Graves?” the young man asked.When he heard the intruder’s voice, the scales fell from Graves’ eyes, but he still had to do a double take. Could it really be Credence Barebone who was standing in front of him, clad in finest silk, skin sporting a healthy glow as opposed to the sickly pallor Graves had been so accustomed to?





	droit du seigneur

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is honestly a little experiment for me - I'd like to try and write some darker, grittier stories, and this was an attempt to write one of those.
> 
> I'm not a native speaker and this fic is unbeta'd, so if you find any mistakes, feel free to point them out to me!
> 
> The title of the fic refers to the "lord's right" or "right of the first night", which is, according to Wikipedia, "a supposed legal right in medieval Europe, allowing feudal lords to have sexual relations with subordinate women, in particular, on their wedding nights."

Percival Graves stepped through the destroyed remains of the Barebone Church and felt excitement course through his veins. He could feel the residue of powerful dark magic crackle in the air like static, like the electricity the No-Majs had invented a few decades prior. It was a potent feeling, heady and ecstatic. The only other times Graves had witnessed such a demonstration of raw power was when Grindelwald had cast magic in his proximity.

There was a reason why the Austrian was considered the most dangerous wizard of his time. He combined power and charisma with a political vision and had the tenacity to achieve it.

He was powerful enough to make Percival Graves - a member of the Twelve - renounce his loyalty to MACUSA, after all.

One of Graves’ missions had been to locate an Obscurial in New York City. Grindelwald had had a vision and when the strange occurrences had started half a year ago, Graves had started to look for signs. He’d quickly zeroed in on the New Salem Preservation Society, or Second Salemers, as they were known. Led by the fanatic Mary Lou Barebone, they were committed to exposing America’s wizarding population and exterminate them. Not that Mary Lou and her few supporters would be able to stand Graves’ Aurors if it came to that, but Graves had decided not to move against the group until he found the Obscurial.

However, it seemed like the problem had pretty much solved itself in the meantime. Mary Lou Barebone was lying on the floor, dead as a dormouse. Her face was covered in violent scratches, the characteristic mark of an Obscurus attack. Graves thought he could see a pair of stocking-clad legs sticking out under a piece of rubble, unmoving.

The Obscurial had been here, that much was clear.

He felt the pull inside his chest, the thing that had summoned him here in the first place, followed it and quickly found Credence sitting on the stairs, curled up into a ball and clutching the necklace Graves had given him just a few hours prior for dear life.

Graves knelt down in front of him. “Credence,” he said soothingly.

The boy was sobbing, snot, tears, and spit transforming his face into an ugly mess. He turned his bleary eyes to Graves. “Help me,” he sputtered. “Help me, please.”

Graves exhaled slowly, recalling every piece of advice Grindelwald had given him with regards to Credence. He was frightened, had only survived the attack of an Obscurial by sheer luck and didn’t understand what had happened. His mother and adoptive sister were both dead, their home destroyed. The boy was going to have nothing; so he’d called the only savior known to him. Percival Graves.

“I will help you, my boy,” Graves said. “But I need to know what happened here,” he continued. “An Obscurial was here. You need to tell me what you saw, it could be dangerous for you to stay here.”

Credence blinked slowly, evidently not understanding a word Graves had said. He just kept staring at him, expression perpetually torn between horror and helplessness. “Please, help me,” he repeated dumbly and sniffled pathetically.

Graves slowly reached out and pulled Credence into his arms. The boy liked to be touched and held, especially if you were gentle with him, and Graves hoped it might help him calm down enough to tell him what had happened

Credence was shaking in his arms and blabbering nonsense when Graves suddenly flinched. The residue of dark magic, the powerful, almost crackling vestiges of raw power which had lingered in the church was suddenly so much stronger. It took him only a second to identify Credence as the source.

“My boy,” Graves whispered in astonishment, petting Credence’s short hair.

“Mr. Graves, I think it’s me. I think I’m the child you’re looking for.”

* * *

 

Almost a year later, Percival Graves was finally allowed to move into Nurmengard.

That fateful December night, he’d spent a few hours calming Credence down and explaining to the frightened boy that he, Percival Graves, was not really working for MACUSA, but rather for Gellert Grindelwald, the most powerful wizard alive. And it was Gellert Grindelwald who’d given Graves the task of finding an Obscurial in Manhattan. While the wizarding governments would lock Credence away (or worse), Grindelwald would help him control the Obscurus and work towards establishing a more equal society, in which witches and wizards no longer had to hide their talents.

Vinda Rosier, one of Grindelwald’s close associates had arrived via International Portkey in Graves’ apartment and had taken Credence to Nurmengard.

* * *

 

The day Graves was finally allowed to move in, he was slightly disgruntled since he’d seen neither hide nor hair from his boy for the entire day. He wasn’t entirely sure when he’d become so possessive, or when he’d started to refer to Credence as “his boy”, but somehow, in his mind, the descriptor fit like a glove.

He was a possessive bastard, so what?

At the end of the day, after discussions with Grindelwald himself, as well as Abernathy and Rosier, Graves settled into the rooms he’d been assigned. The house elves had already unpacked his personal belongings and all Graves would have to do was settle in for the night after he’d went through his evening routine. He wouldn’t be able to sleep easily, he knew that still not accustomed to the change in time zones.

He was half tempted to summon one of the elves and request Dreamless Sleep, but that might be interpreted as a sign of weakness, especially by Abernathy, the little sycophant.

The short man had spent all of his career at MACUSA trying to suck up to Graves and the president, and now he did the exact same thing here at Nurmengard. But his target was Gellert Grindelwald now. So much for loyalty.

Graves sighed and rubbed his eyes - perhaps he should have given Abernathy the time of the day more often back in New York, then the rat-faced bastard wouldn’t look at him so triumphantly now.

Bored, he wandered around his room and eventually checked the bookshelf. There were no books in English, only in French and German. Of course, Graves thought and rolled his eyes. His German was a little better than his French, so he selected one of the German books, a history of the vampire plague in the Austrian lands, which had apparently taken place some one-hundred-and-fifty years prior.

Graves got his glasses and got started with the book. If it turned out to be boring, it would at least succeed in putting him to sleep… hopefully.

He got through three and a half chapters before his eyes started to droop. It was difficult to contain his yawns, so he put the book aside, got under the covers and extinguished the lights with a flick of his wrist.

Graves fell into a light sleep, and he couldn’t have slept for more than half an hour when he was awoken again when someone slipped into his room.

He abruptly sat up straight in bed and reached for his wand, casting lumos with his free hand in the meantime. “Who’s there?” he asked, blinking against the bright light floating overhead due to his lumos spell.

The intruder turned out to be a beautiful young man, who was wearing a silk dressing gown and carried a wand in his left hand. He was looking at Graves with wide eyes, biting his plush lips. Something about him was terribly familiar - he was extraordinarily handsome and Graves thought he’d surely remember bedding such a beauty, but there was something… he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

“Don’t you remember me, Mr. Graves?” the young man asked.

When he heard the intruder’s voice, the scales fell from Graves’ eyes, but he still had to do a double take. Could it really be Credence Barebone who was standing in front of him, clad in finest silk, skin sporting a healthy glow as opposed to the sickly pallor Graves had been so accustomed to?

“Credence,” he whispered and got out of bed in an instant, closing the distance between them with a few long strides. “My boy.” He enveloped Credence in an embrace, but the familiarity he would have expected to get from the act didn’t come. It was like hugging a new person.

Credence leaned into his touch, yes, but he no longer did it with the attitude of a kicked puppy, frightful and shy. Instead, Credence wrapped his arms around Graves, too, reciprocating the touch in a way he’d never done before.

Graves inhaled and was pleased to discover that Credence smelled good, decidedly masculine with a hint of something sweet he couldn’t quite detect. It made his mouth go dry and heat pooled in his lower belly at the realization that Credence had come to his bedroom to seek Graves out for the night.

“I’ve missed you, my boy,” Graves said, running his fingers through Credence’s soft hair, which lightly curled at the end. “I’m sorry it took me so long to rejoin you, but now I’m here.”

“It’s alright, Mr. Graves,” Credence said, breaking the embrace. “Everyone around here has been very committed to making me feel welcome and accepted. You don’t need to apologize. Here at Nurmengard, I’m the happiest and most comfortable version of myself that I’ve ever been.”

Graves smiled, trying to ignore the slight sting that Credence’s words had left inside his heart. The happiest he’d ever been? Without Graves in his life? That wouldn’t do. “I see you’ve got a wand,” he commented, trying to steer the conversation into territory that was less emotionally charged.

Credence smiled happily. “Yes, for the first few months I was busy learning to control the Obscurus, but once I got the hang of that, I was allowed to get my own wand. Gellert took me to Prague to see his favorite wandmaker, it was very exciting. Once I’d gotten my wand, Gellert took Polyjuice and then he showed me around the city. It felt like a sightseeing trip.

Graves bit the inside of his cheek so he wouldn’t frown. “That was certainly nice of Grindelwald,” he said.

Credence nodded eagerly. “Gellert is the best,” he said, leaned in and brushed a kiss against Graves’ cheek. “Thank you for giving me the opportunity to meet him.”

Pleased with himself, Graves feigned shock. He touched his cheek near the spot where Credence’s lips had touched it. “Why did you do that?” he asked, ostensibly surprised.

To his delight, Credence blushed, turning his cheeks an adorable shade of pink. “I’ve wanted to do that ever since we first met in New York City,” he confessed. “Now I’ve got the courage and the confidence to actually do it. I’m no longer scared of my feelings.” Credence swallowed and looked right into Graves’ eyes. “If you don’t want me to kiss you, I’m not afraid of rejection, either. You don’t need to spare my feelings.”

Graves shook his head, whispering the boy’s name while cupping his cheek. “On the contrary,” he said, “I very much want to kiss you.”

Credence’s face lit up and he grinned at Graves, just before leaning in and finally, after a year of torturous thoughts for Percival, he could finally kiss Credence, marking the first step in his plan to claim the boy as his own.

Credence was kissing him back enthusiastically, pressing his body against Graves. When Graves bit down on the boy’s bottom lip, Credence moaned lewdly. Graves pulled back, smirking at Credence. The boy was a sight for sore eyes - flushed cheeks, dilated pupils, and kiss-swollen lips.

“You’re a needy little thing, aren’t you?”

Credence didn’t reply in words, he only mewled in response, trying to get even closer to Graves.

“Hush,” Graves said. “Slow down, darling, we’ve got the whole night.”

Credence shook his head. “I’m tired of waiting,” he breathed, taking hold of Graves’ hand. The boy started to pull him towards the bed, undoing the sash of his robe with his free hand.

Every reminder that they should perhaps take it slow since it was going to be Credence’s first time and they shouldn’t rush it died on Graves’ tongue when he saw that Credence wasn’t wearing anything underneath the silk robe.

“You little minx,” Graves said. “You’ve planned this, haven’t you?”

Credence shrugged out of the robe and sat on the bed, wordlessly beckoning Graves’ closer.

“Answer me,” Graves demanded. “How long have you been planning this?”

Back in New York, the boy would have flinched at Graves’ sharp, commanding tone of voice, but now, Credence just grinned, waved his wand and watched how the silk dressing gown rose up from the floor as if pulled on by invisible strings, folded itself perfectly in the air and was finally deposited on the dresser.

Momentarily tongue-tied, Graves was impressed by how quickly Credence must have progressed in his magical education. Nonverbal spell-casting had taken Graves a lot of time to learn, and Credence had only a year of magical education under his belt. Either Grindelwald and Rosier were even better teachers than Graves could imagine, or he’d vastly underestimated the raw power Credence commanded. “How did you do that?”

“Stop asking so many questions,” Credence said, finally, reclining on the bed. “Don’t you want to join me? I can show you all that I’ve learned.”

“What do you mean?” Graves mumbled, approaching the bed. Even if he tried, he didn’t think he’d be able to move in any direction other than towards Credence at the moment. He was helplessly drawn to the boy, like a moth to a flame. “What did you learn?”

Credence snorted. “You’re taking too long and you’re talking too much,” he said and waved his wand, vanishing Graves’ clothes with a simple spell. He tilted his head to the side, eying Graves’ body with approval. “There, that’s much better, isn’t it?”

“You impatient little…,” Graves laughed, a bit taken aback by Credence’s eagerness. He was not complaining, but the scene was going against everything he’d imagined in his most sordid fantasies. He’d wanted to teach the boy, instruct him in the arts of love and sex, and slowly shape the shy, withdrawn boy he’d found on the streets of Manhattan into something spectacular, something irresistibly and desirable.

Never, not in any of his fantasies, did he have to deal with a Credence who didn’t follow his lead, who talked back to him, who challenged Graves’ understanding of the power dynamics between the two of them.

He never thought Credence would have any sort of self-confidence, Graves realized with a start. In his dreams, he’d been the one to give Credence approval, he was the axis around which Credence’s world turned.

Graves had to fight down a bout of rage at Grindelwald - if he’d been allowed to teach the boy, if he hadn’t been ordered to deliver Credence straight to Nurmengard and not see him for months on end, then Credence wouldn’t be so difficult now.

If he weren’t overcome with his desire for the boy and anger at Grindelwald, he’d be able to think clearly and examine why he thought that Credence being willing and seeking out the pleasures Graves could provide him with warranted the label ‘difficult’ in his mind.

“I hardly recognize you, dear boy,” Graves said, joining Credence on the bed, letting his eyes trail over the boy’s long-limbed body. “Where’s the Credence I thought I knew? What happened to you?”

Credence pressed a hard, almost violent kiss to Graves’ mouth. “I suppose I grew up,” Credence said, wrapping one of his hands around Graves’ cock. “Are you complaining?”

With Credence’s hand stroking him to hardness, it got a little difficult to think clearly, so Graves just shook his head. Where did Credence learn this? He bit back a grin when he imagined that the boy had been practicing on himself for all those months, secretly harboring his desire for Mr. Graves who was the only one who’d noticed him back in New York, before Credence had become beautiful, before he’d discovered the immense power of the Obscurus that lived within him.

“Slow down a little, my boy,” Graves said, gently pushing Credence away. “We’re not in a hurry, are we? Let me get a good look at you, first.”

Credence gave him an amused smile, but let Graves explore his body. Finally, Graves knew what bothered him about Credence’s behavior. He wasn’t shy about his body, he wasn’t shy about what he wanted… when had this change happened? Graves had dreamed of being the one person who gave him confidence.

Something else had changed, too. “What happened to your scars?” Graves asked.

He’d seen Credence half-naked once when he’d found him after his adoptive mother had beaten him especially brutally and he’d been of no use to him. Some of the lashes had gotten infected. The boy had been feverish and could hardly concentrate on the conversation Graves was trying to have with him. Graves apparated them back to his apartment, had ordered the boy to take off his shirt, as well as the upper part of his union suit. He’d healed the wounds with a few waves of his wand but had been unable to do anything for the older scars, criss-crossing Credence’s back like the work of a sick painter, working with flesh and blood.

Now, though, the skin of Credence’s back was perfectly smooth to the touch, not a scar in sight, as though Credence had never met Mary Lou Barebone as if no belt buckle had ever torn into his flesh.

No healing charm Graves knew would be able to get rid of old scars like that.

“Is it a strong glamor charm?” Graves asked. “You didn’t have to do that, my boy. You know that I don’t mind your scars.” He flicked his wrist. “ _Finite Incantatem_ ,” he said, in an effort to cancel the glamor spell.

Nothing happened, and Credence shook his head, giggling silently. “It’s not a glamor charm. Gellert healed my scars.”

“He _healed_ them?” Graves repeated incredulously. “But those were old scars, you can’t… you can heal a fresh wound but not something like that, I never…”

Credence tilted his head to the side. “Mr. Graves, when you found me in New York after the Obscurus killed Mary Lou Barebone, you told me that Gellert Grindelwald was the greatest and most powerful wizard alive. If anyone would be able to heal my scars, it would be him, no?”

Graves blinked and forced a smile on his face. “Of course,” he said, trying very hard not to think about the fact that this probably meant Grindelwald had seen Credence in a state of undress. He knew that he and Grindelwald were of the same persuasion, so to speak, but he hoped that the Austrian wizard wouldn’t have tried to use his influence on Credence… Graves had assumed that it was an unspoken agreement between them that he would be the one to get Credence. Grindelwald would get the Obscurus, but Graves would get the boy.

And, truth be told, he’d also assumed that Credence would reject Grindelwald’s advances - he’d thought he’d managed to make the boy nearly imprint on him, he’d done everything to make the boy believe that he, Graves, was his savior. It was only natural to expect compensation, wasn’t it?

Well, he was about to get compensation, so he couldn’t complain, not really. But it nagged at him, the possibility of maybe not being Credence’s first, of only getting something somebody else had already touched… no, spoiled. He liked his lovers inexperienced, he liked influencing them to do whatever he pleased, and hell, sometimes he also liked pretending that he felt more for some of his lovers than he really did. He was a Graves, he could get away with so much worse than that.

But Credence being with someone else? That hurt. He’d have to teach the boy a lesson...

It happened in a split second. Credence’s eyes glowed white and suddenly, Graves was being restrained by something that he realized were parts of the Obscurus. They were coming out of Credence’s torso, like tentacles, pulsing in time with what Graves suspected was Credence’s heartbeat.

He couldn’t move, the Obscurus kept him pinned to the bed.

“Mr. Graves, I’m afraid you don’t understand,” Credence said, not loosening the hold the Obscurus had on him. “I know what I want and I know what to do in order to get it.”

Graves swallowed and narrowed his eyes. Grindelwald, of course. For all his assurances, he’d sweet-talked Credence until the boy had spread his legs for him and Gellert had taken what ought to have been Percival’s. The knowledge of having been betrayed left a bitter taste in Graves’ mouth.

“What did he tell you?” Graves spit out. “What did Grindelwald tell you that made you sleep with him?”

“Mr. Graves, you don’t know what it’s like to feel profoundly helpless,” Credence said.

With the Obscurus pinning him to the bed more effectively than any spell ever could, Graves thought he could at least begin to understand helplessness. Credence was in control, he realized. For the first time in his life, Graves was not the one controlling the situation and Credence had managed to do that completely without Graves realizing what was going on.

“Gellert made me understand that I am powerful, and he taught me how to use that power. You might not want to hear it, I understand, but when Gellert took me under his wing, I felt powerful and accepted for the first time in my life. I’m eternally grateful for everything he’s done for me. And he is an attractive man, you can’t deny that. So, I thought to myself, isn’t it the most natural thing in the world to want such a man? He is powerful, attractive, well-spoken and he’s going to be the future leader of wizardkind. Should I have waited for a better partner to come around? I don’t think so.”

Graves gritted his teeth when the Obscurus tightened his hold on him. “I thought you were mine,” he said. “I thought you were going to be mine,” he repeated. “Not Grindelwald’s.”

Credence narrowed his eyes, transformed one of the Obscurus’ tendrils into claws, and raked them across Graves’ chest, not quite drawing blood. “I don’t belong to anyone,” he said sharply. “You ought to remember that if you want to endure here, Mr. Graves. Mr. Abernathy made a similar mistake once, and he still cowers in fear whenever we’re in the same room together.”

Credence smiled; a vicious thing that made Graves’ blood turn to ice.

Suddenly, Credence bore almost no resemblance to the timid but beautiful boy he’d met in New York City. No, this was someone else entirely, or something else, if he was going to be honest with himself. It seemed like the boy had relinquished control to such a degree that the Obscurus was controlling him more than vice versa. He was a monstrous, brutal, mesmerizing thing and Graves understood why Grindelwald would be drawn to the boy.

“Why did he do this to me?” Graves asked. “I thought having you come to my room was a reward for something I did, but this is not the… this is not what I expected. It’s not a reward, it feels like a punishment.”

Credence laughed and grabbed a fistful of Percival’s hair, pulling hard. “You don’t think Gellert can give me away just like that, do you? I don’t belong to anyone, and going to your room? That was a reward for _me_. I know, it won’t be easy to accept, but now you’re the pawn, probably for the first time in your life.”

Graves wanted to protest, but one of the Obscurus’ tentacles reached out and clamped over his mouth, silencing him.

Credence clicked his tongue. “None of that,” he said. “That’s one thing I learned from Gellert, you know? A good pet knows he should keep quiet when his Master wants to play.”

**Author's Note:**

> This fic has been a bit of an experiment for me - let me know what you think, please! Comments and kudos brighten my day <3
> 
> Find me [@almost-annette](https://almost-annette.tumblr.com/)


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